A Possession for All Time
by Whistle
Summary: Ling gets to know his new roommate.


Immortality was a strange thing. Ling had often thought about what it would feel like, in his travels. He would lie in his bedroll beside Fu and Lan Fan, look up at the desert night sky, and let his mind wander—would it be a sense of power, he'd ask himself, or would it feel no different than he usually did, would his unchanging image in the mirror be the only sign? He hadn't quite imagined it like this: wailing souls swirling all around him, strange, unnatural Qi blanketing him like a noxious cloud, and his body piloted as a puppet to do a homunculus' bidding.

For the time being, the homunculus' bidding appeared to involve petting a lot of chimeras.

"You sure are clingy, huh? How do you feel about becoming my possession?" Ling's mouth was saying. The chimera, a little thing that seemed to be a lizard crossed with some sort of cat, purred loudly. "I'll take that as a yes. Heh, I'm only an hour old and I already have a following. Nice."

It was odd to hear that unfamiliar voice come from his mouth, echoing across the cavernous room. It was odd to watch his hand move across the creature's patchy fur without being the one to tell it to. With the strange, unfamiliar tattoo on its back it almost looked like someone else's, and yet he felt the sensation from it as if it were his, cutting through the fog of souls engulfing him. The presence inside him was overwhelming. It pulsed through his veins, pressing against his consciousness until it was all he could focus on.

"Homunculus?" he tried.

"Yeah? I have a name, you know."

"So you can hear me, then."

"What the hell do you think, that I'm thinking to myself and my thoughts just happen to answer your questions? What do you want, kid?"

Good. This made things easier. "I want you to send a message for me."

"Oh, you're a riot. And what exactly makes you think you're in the position to ask for favors?"

"I wasn't asking," said Ling, stonily.

The being in his head paused, silent, and Ling briefly wondered if he'd pushed too far. But the homunculus burst out laughing, a loud, unrestrained laugh that rang with delight. "Well, aren't you the decisive one! I think we're going to get along just fine. I like people who know what they want." The presence in Ling's head seemed to examine him. "So what's the message?"

"Can you write in Xingese?"

"Do I look like I can write in Xingese, kid?" The homunculus paused. "Huh, I guess that technically I do. But no, I can't. Just give me the message in Amestrian."

"No. Hand me over my body for a minute. I'll write it."

Another booming laugh. "_My_ body, you mean. Do you think I'm stupid, brat? Really?"

"I think that if you can't take control back from me when I'm done then you don't deserve to have my body in the first place."

That seemed to resonate with the homunculus. Something rippled along Ling's consciousness, above the wailing storm of souls, but he couldn't quite tell what it was. The chimera bumped its head against Ling's hand, demanding more affection.

"Yeah, I guess that's fair. What good's a possession if you can't take care of it?" the homunculus conceded. "So, do we have anything to write on?"

It took some effort to convince the homunculus to tear a strip of cloth from Ling's pants. Honestly, Ling had no idea why he seemed so hell-bent on keeping those. The blood was never going to come out.

* * *

The sun shone above them. The breeze blew gently on Ling's face. Bradley's retreating back disappeared into the building, casual and unconcerned as always, and Ling fumed. It probably would have been more effective if he'd had control of his expression.

Once they were alone again, the homunculus' smile dropped from Ling's face. "What the hell was that back there?" the presence inside him demanded, growling.

"Did you really expect me to sit there and watch as he insulted the entire human race?"

The homunculus sighed. "Well, I can't say I don't admire your spirit but... Look, just be more careful, will you? If my family decides you're a liability to me, they're gonna want to get rid of you."

"Wouldn't that make things easier for you, not having another soul fighting you for my body?"

"Hey, now, who do you take me for? I'm _Greed_, kid, and you're the first possession I ever had. Like hell I'm giving you up so easily."

Oh. Ling wasn't sure what to say to that, or to the sudden, strange feeling that washed over him like a tidal wave.

"What's your beef with Wrath, anyway?" asked Greed. "I've never felt you so angry, and that includes when I tried to cut my hair earlier."

Ling hesitated. What had happened with Lan Fan seemed too personal, too raw to share with someone like Greed. So he simply said, "He's the ruler of this country, and he's planning to sacrifice all his subjects to gain power. It's despicable. A king is no king without his people. But you wouldn't understand that, would you, homunculus?"

Ling had expected dismissive laughter. Instead, Greed seemed almost thoughtful for a while, as the wailing souls swirled all around them. "Nah, I get it," he said eventually. "He's got all these possessions and he's willing to give them up, just like that? He doesn't _deserve_ what he has."

"But isn't that what you're helping him do?"

"Well, yeah, I suppose. It's what I was created for, after all."

"And you're satisfied with that? Don't you ever want anything more than what your father gives you? Or are you content with an empty tunnel to guard and a few chimeras to pet?"

A surge of anger. "Shut it, brat. I know what you're trying to do, and it's not gonna work."

But Ling could feel an undercurrent of something inside Greed, something that seemed almost like uncertainty. He didn't push it. Not yet. Together they sat on the parapet as the breeze blew on their face and watched the buildings and streets and people of Central, stretching out along the landscape until finally giving way to the hills of Amestris. It wasn't a particularly beautiful city, but it had its own odd, foreign character. From the roof of Central Command, the people below almost looked like ants.

* * *

Greed was patrolling the tunnels again. Their steps echoed across the space before them, and the pipes around them hummed softly as they spread their foul, tainted Qi across the country's pulse like a disease. In the low light, everything had a deadly, menacing air. The chimeras skittering along the pipes were ravenous monsters full of claws and teeth, the shadows on the walls were all sharp edges and pointed angles, and Ling was bored out of his currently co-inhabited skull. Once you'd seen one ominous tunnel, you'd seen them all.

"Do you really have nothing better to do all day?" he asked, just to break the overwhelming monotony.

The moment Ling spoke, Greed seemed to light up. "Hah! Regretting accepting me into you body already, kid?"

"No," said Ling. "I don't." Not when the secret of immortality was finally in his grasp. Not when the fate of his entire clan rested on it. Not after what Lan Fan had sacrificed for this.

An immediate surge of something that might have been delight came from the presence inside him. "That's the spirit! You've got a point, though, this is pretty boring."

"Can't we go prank Envy again? The high-pitched yelling is pretty funny."

Greed laughed. "I like the way you think, kid! But no, I'll get in trouble if abandon my post again. I know, why don't you talk to me about something? What's it like up there in the human world?"

Ling tried to frown. His face remained unchanged. "You want to know about humans?"

"Yes? Why wouldn't I? I've been alive for almost a month now and I've spent most of that stuck here underground. There's this whole world full of things and people out there—of course I want to know more about it!"

"You know, I've been wondering about this. Why is it that you don't seem to hate humans?"

"Huh?" Confusion swirled all around them. "Why the hell would I hate humans?"

"All your siblings seem to. They think humans are their natural enemies. Isn't this whole thing supposed to be a war between humans and homunculi?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess. I don't really see why that should stop me. I want _everything_, kid. Why should I ever be satisfied with only one thing? This whole natural enemies thing is all nonsense, anyway. Homunculi, humans, chimeras, they're all going to be mine, and I'm going to—to—"

They'd been getting headaches lately, a dull, throbbing pain inside their skull. Greed rubbed his temples. All around them, the whirlwind of souls howled.

"Screw it," Greed muttered. "Wanna go sit on the roof again? You like that."

Ling thought about it for a moment. It would be nice to feel the breeze again. But... "Not really," he decided. "I'd rather not run into Bradley right now."

"You really don't like that guy, huh? I don't—ngh." Greed pressed his palm against his eye. "What the hell is wrong with this body, kid? First the passing out thing, and now this!"

"Hey, don't blame this one on me! I never had these headaches before you came along."

There was something stirring inside Greed, somewhere below the wailing souls and unnatural Qi. Ling could feel a strange restlessness pressing against their chest. Sometimes, when Greed closed his eyes, they could see flashes of images—of faces that neither of them recognized. Ling didn't know what this was. But he would find out. He would finally gain an advantage over the homunculus, and once he was able to contain him...

Greed slumped against he wall.

Ling sighed—or at least did so mentally. "Hey, I have an idea," he said. "Why don't you try meditating?"

"Huh? Meditating? Sounds like a waste of time."

"Yeah, I'm not that good at it either," admitted Ling. "But it can help clear your head. Come on. I'll walk you through it. It'll be nice!"

"Fine, whatever," Greed sighed. "Just tell me what to do."

"Okay! Cross your—cross our legs. There, like that. Now close our eyes and breathe in slowly."

"This is such a waste of time," Greed grumbled under his breath. But he did everything Ling told him.

* * *

The world was a blur, a whirlwind of action outside him and of twisting, churning grief inside. Bradley came at them in a storm of blades, like the wrath of a vengeful god—_tearing through their insides, pinning them to the ground, slicing Dolcetto and Roa and Martel apart before their eyes, the dead weight of Lan Fan on their shoulder and no no _no_ this couldn't be happening, not like this, not to _their_ people_—but this time it was different, this time they could raise their shield—

Bradley's sword shattered with a metallic ring, and he paused for a fraction of a second to glance at the broken blade flying in the air. "Greed," Ling said. No answer came, but Greed didn't resist when he took control, simply slid into the background without protest. Ling looked up at Bradley with his own eyes and for a single second all he wanted was to tear him apart with his bare hands, for Bido, for Lan Fan, for Roa, Dolcetto, Martel, Ulchi. He wanted it more than anything he'd ever wanted in his life.

He ran.

No one stopped him. Not Bradley, not the guards, not Greed. He slipped into the alleyways of Central, into the shadows. The inside of his head felt empty, now. His hands shook with a grief that was and wasn't his.

"Greed," he tried again, and again Greed was silent.

He rubbed his eyes. Kept running. Soon enough Greed would snap out of this, demand control back, and be his usual arrogant self once more. But, for now, Ling was in charge. He was the eye of the storm.

This was the advantage he'd been waiting for all this time. Wasn't it?

"It's all right," he said. "It's going to be all right. I know a safe place nearby. I'll take care of things from now on, Greed."

And, for a moment, he could almost feel the swirling hurricane inside him quieten.

* * *

They awoke with a gasp, and for a few endless seconds Ling wasn't sure whose fingers were digging into their skull, whose lungs were straining for air, whose memories lingered at the back of their thoughts.

"Dammit," one of them muttered, rubbing their eyes.

It was still dark, and the air was cold. Little pinpricks stung at the corners of their eyes. Greed sat up, drawing up their legs and resting their head on their knees. Ling could remember flashes of their dream—blood dripping from his claws, the echoes of Wrath's steps reverberating in their chest, broken bottles and broken bodies scattered across the floor of the bar, and when he tried to focus on their faces his head began to hurt.

"You want to talk about it?" Ling asked.

Greed stiffened and hugged their knees a little tighter. "Now why the hell would I want to do that, you little pest? I barely even _remember_ my past memories. Why should they bother me?"

"They're not going away, Greed. You know that, right?"

"Shut up, kid. Not now." A feeling of dread pulled at their chest, as if Greed expected Ling to yell at him again. Their fingers trembled.

"Okay," Ling said, quietly. "Okay."

Around the dying embers of the campfire, their little group slept. Heinkel and Darius were sprawled side by side, snoring loudly; Ed tossed and turned under his blanket, clenching his automail hand as if grasping for something. They sat there and watched them, quietly, and the storm inside them seemed to settle a little. Above them, the moon and the stars shone against the darkness of the night.

"I'm bored," said Greed. "Talk to me."

"All right. What should I talk about?"

"I dunno. Tell me about yourself or something. About this Xing place you keep going on about."

So Ling told him. He told him about the Yao lands and the five hundred thousand clansmen whose fate rested on his shoulders. He told him about the Imperial Palace, majestic and gilded, with its elaborately dressed courtiers and its faraway Emperor, and the neighboring clans and the assassins they sent after him on a regular basis. About the time he and Lan Fan snuck into the Yuan lands to steal their priceless carved lacquer dishes and the time Fu took him to visit an old temple of the Western Sage and he and Lan Fan got lost in the ruins chasing a fox. About the mountains and the forests and the rivers and the lakes, and the food, delicious and varied and so different from what they had in Amestris. About anything that came to his mind—anything that would keep the inside of their head from falling silent again.

"Hah," said Greed, after a while. "You really love your country, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Ling replied, with a vehemence that surprised him. He'd started this journey for the sake of his clan, hadn't he, to protect his subjects against enemy clans. That was what he was supposed to want. But he understood now what he truly craved. The whole hereditary enemies business—none of it mattered. Why should he ever be satisfied with just one thing? "It's _mine_. All of it. And I'm going to do everything I can to look after it and _everyone_ in it."

Ling had expected Greed to laugh and remind him that Greed's goals were the ones that actually mattered. But when Greed laughed it was strange and distant, out of place in his brash, confident voice. "I like you, Ling," he said. "You're the greedy type. I'm glad you became my possession."

"Oh. I'm... glad, too." Why wouldn't he be, when Greed was the key to getting what he wanted? But there was a surge of emotion at that, a startled sort of happiness, and Ling wasn't entirely sure which of them it came from.

They both fell quiet. For a while they sat there, surrounded by the howling souls that had been the background noise to Ling's thoughts ever since that day underneath Central Command. And, somewhere beneath the storm, Ling could feel a black hole inside them. It clawed at him, burning, like an ever-present hunger he could never sate.

Eventually, Greed sat up straight. He crossed their legs, closed their eyes, and breathed slowly in.

"I don't really remember my old memories very clearly," he said, at length, "but there was this one time Dolcetto brought home a stray dog—something about canine solidarity or whatever—and it freaked out because animals tend to do that around me so it hid in the cellar and Martel had to..."

Ling didn't miss the silence. It was a strange thing to realize.

They talked until morning came and Ed threw a shoe at their face for not listening to him.

* * *

"—and so Ed takes off his boot and says, 'You know, leather goods are edible...'"

Greed's roar of delighted laughter rang out inside their head. "Seriously? You actually let the little shrimp feed you a shoe?"

"Hey, I was hungry!" Ling replied, trying and failing to stifle his own laughter. "You have no idea how long we were wandering around in there!"

"I can't believe you! A prince of Xing, eating a shoe! How did it even taste?"

"Absolutely awful! It was the worst thing I've ever eaten, even worse than the time I—"

There was something moving right in front of their face. They blinked. Ed's metal hand came slowly into focus. They blinked again.

"Hey, Greedling! Quit zoning out on us!" Ed demanded once he has their attention. "Or are you too good to have conversations with us mortals?"

Ling nudged Greed out of the way and after a brief wordless back-and-forth Greed handed him the wheel. "No, it's just that looking down at you when we talk gives me a crick in my neck," he said, then slid into the backseat again as Greed barked, "Hah! Nice one, prince!"

"Why, you—" sputtered Ed. "You know, I liked you two better when you didn't get along."

Greed laughed. "Ah, you love us, runt."

"Ugh. Why did we ever join up with you, anyway?"

"You tell us," said Heinkel from beside the campfire, where he was crouched stoking the flames. "I seem to recall it was your idea."

"Well, if your memory's so damn good then maybe you can remind me when I asked you guys to follow me everywhere!"

"Maybe we should have left you to bleed out, then," Darius butted in.

"Maybe I should have left you trapped in the rubble!"

It was a nice evening. The last light of dusk lingered on the horizon, they'd lost the latest military patrol two towns back, their bag of provisions had been full ever since Ling had talked the group into letting him handle the supply runs, and the nights were growing slowly warmer. Life was good, or at least a whole lot better than it had any right to be given the trainwreck Ling's existence had been ever since he'd set foot in this cursed country. He and Greed leaned back and watched their team comfortably bicker for a while, illuminated by the flickering light of the flames. The waves of fondness rippling from Greed were contagious.

"That sure is a ragtag crew we've got here, isn't it?" said Ling.

"Yeah, and it's _my_ ragtag crew, so I won't hear anything against 'em."

"Not even against their taste in leaders?"

"Hah! You know I could still get rid of you, you annoying little prince."

Ling couldn't tell if the smile on their face was his or Greed's.

Around the campfire, Ed and the chimeras were now arguing about the state of the emergency rations, but seemed ready to move on to arguing about their next destination, perhaps with a brief detour to argue about whose turn it was to cook today. The fire crackled before them, warm and bright against the falling darkness.

"This is nice, isn't it?" Ling whispered.

"Yeah." Greed's voice seemed far away. "Yeah, I guess it is. Not enough to satisfy me, of course. But... it's nice."

"And is taking over the world what will satisfy you?"

"Sure is, kid. Isn't that what I keep telling you?"

"And when you succeed? What will happen to your crew then?"

"Huh?" Greed frowned. "Well, you'll still be with me, won't you? You and the runt and the chimeras, you're all my possessions. You think I'm just going to give you up? I want everything the world has to offer, and _everyone's_ included."

"But what if that's not what we want? We all have our own things we're looking for, you know."

That seemed to take Greed aback, a jolt of fear and dismay that was quickly buried again. "But when I have everything, I'll be able to give them to you, right? If Xing is mine, and you're with me, then we can take care of it together. Isn't that what you want?"

Ling knew what he wanted. He had for a while. "But is it what you want?" he asked.

"Yeah," whispered Greed. "Yeah, of course it is. What else would it be?"

The hunger inside them pulled at them, the gaping hollowness that was Greed's relentless craving. And Ling understood. He knew what it was like to look at everything around him and know that it needed to be _his_—his to look after, to protect, to elevate into something better than it was. He understood. If it had been anyone else Ling could have grabbed his hand, slid his arms around him, pressed soft kisses to his lips. But he could reach out with his soul, curl against the presence in his head, and feel Greed's warmth in return. It was comfortable, and safe, and for a little while the hunger inside them ebbed.

What an idiot of a homunculus he'd found for himself, Ling thought fondly.

Yeah. It was going to be all right. He could live with the emptiness. He didn't mind—not when he knew how to fill it.

The future Emperor of Xing should always look after what was his, after all.


End file.
